


Thread of Memory

by unwittingcatalyst



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: DarhkAtom, Episode: s04e16 Hey World!, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Grief, Legends of Tomorrow Season 4 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-03-20 16:39:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18996478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwittingcatalyst/pseuds/unwittingcatalyst
Summary: In which Ray stares at a wall, Nora’s brain hurts because: time travel, Ray is nearly incoherent, and I’m still mad about the finale.This fic is about me coping with the Season 4 finale--so, spoilers.It's also in the same universe as my other Legends of Tomorrow fics, and especially follows from the ones that focus on Ray and Zari's friendship, especially "Nice and Weird" and "To Feel the Way That Every Child Should" (the Phone Home one).





	1. waking up

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my beta readers: [by_heart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/by_heart), [purpleyin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpleyin), and [meganbagels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meganbagels) \--they all helped me make it so much better after the very rough draft I wrote in the middle of the night after the finale aired.

Ray began to wake not knowing where or when he was, the feeling of his dream taking all his attention: a sun-dappled playground, a cool breeze, and Z was rolling her eyes at her brother’s antics, Behrad was laughing his generous laugh, looking down fondly at his sister as he threw an arm around her shoulders, and Z’s eyes were sparkling with joy bursting through her attempt at irritation, and Ray’s own feelings echoed that joy at seeing them both together--

But that was impossible.

He felt keenly the desperate relief that had brought him to consciousness--the heaviness of a friend’s immense grief lifted. He was barely aware of his actual surroundings--the dim, familiar room around him--the castle, some of his projects, the warm presence still slumbering next to him in the bed. All that reality was not interrupting the memories he was reaching for, not if he stayed still in the warmth of them, not if he focused closely on them. 

The more daunting interference came from the knowledge, lurking just out of his mind’s sight, that he’d been gone, to actual Hell--for moments or centuries, he didn’t know. His mind wasn’t quite wanting to dwell on that yet, and Nora too had suggested that it was OK to not think about it, that he’d remember when he was ready. 

He gladly accepted her wise thought and set that disturbing fact aside for later. Instead, he sat up, disoriented, his side now cold where he’d been snuggled next to Nora, who slept on peacefully. They’d succumbed to deep sleep after everything, knowing they had all the time they needed now.

He looked down at Nora, who’d come for him in hell, and smiled, thinking: _safe_. And then he thought of Nate, who’d died for him: _safe_. And John, who’d sent himself to hell to find him: _safe_. He started to think of every other one of his friends, when a wave of sickening dizziness hit him. 

Someone was missing—

\--a hollow jolt hit him, a sense of panic that felt hopeless—

He was up and through the door, following the dream he’d just had, trying to find it.

He found himself staring at a wall, and he tried to wrap his scattered thoughts around something that made no sense. All through the ship elusive memories slipped just out of sight, but just right here they ached more strongly, several at once--a bored demeanor, angry tears, a stern and unyielding protectiveness. He felt a peculiar headache that was hauntingly familiar, and a sense of irretrievable loss, and her wry smile—

Zari was gone, and at the thought he felt a sob go through him.


	2. staring through the wall

“Ray?” Nora said tentatively, gently. He stood in the middle of the night-darkened Waverider hallway, staring into nothing (well, technically a wall, but she knew that’s not what he was looking at), a lost expression on his face, eyes wide and a little scared.

She’d expected there to be repercussions from his time in Hell—she knew it hadn’t been Jenga the whole time, that it would have taken ages (perhaps quite literally) to turn his old enemy around, and that, at the beginning, it couldn’t have been pretty. She’d been prepared for that.

Instinctively, she knew this was…something else.

They’d collapsed together in his room, exhausted, the full acknowledgment of who they now were to each other only there in how they held each other close as sleep quickly took them. But now—

“Ray. What is it?”

“This happened before—but it didn’t—“ He shook his head in slight impatience at himself. “I’m remembering something that didn’t happen.”

“Oh.” On a time ship, that statement almost made sense.

Ray spoke distractedly, staring at the wall, as though talking to himself, not her. "When I was a kid, I was murdered by government agents.” He looked up at her, and she could see his eyes were red, and they weren’t shining with fear--that was sorrow. (This was not OK.) “Except, I wasn’t—there was this kind woman who helped me, saved me, who was my friend.” The wonder in his voice was kind of breaking Nora’s heart, and his next words only made that feeling stronger. “She was…my only friend, for a long time.” The thoughtfulness in Ray turned abruptly into anxious urgency. “That was part of what I just dreamt. But, it never happened, but I think it did. And this is going to—“ He stopped, having lost his thought.

Nora waited with a patience she hadn’t thought she had in her. 

“Behrad’s sister. He’s always talking about her, and…it was her. And Behrad—“ a look of horror crossed his expressive features. “He was dead. And she missed him so much.” Ray shook his head. “She loved him so much—“ Ray was speaking with a depth of feeling about memories now grounded in emptiness. 

Nora did not want to interrupt—it felt like something very delicate was happening, and that the slightest thing could shatter the thread of memory. But she also wanted to sit down. She waited, and listened—it was the least she could do for this man who had been so patient and understanding with her.

Ray closed his eyes tightly. “Nate was right. Something is _wrong_.”


	3. and Behrad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nora and Ray sit on the floor and Behrad appears.

They ended up sitting on the floor of the Waverider hallway, both her hands tightly clasping both of his. Ray was mostly silent, but sometimes he would mutter things. Or apologize, and that’s the only time she got frustrated with him: “No, Ray. Do what you need to do, I’m here, it’s fine.”

Nora was leaning her head against the cold bulkhead, trying and nearly failing to stay awake. It didn’t help that Ray was being much quieter than he usually was. She’d just closed her eyes for a moment almost ready to nap, when Ray’s spoke up again, voice gentle. “Do you remember when we found you in the asylum? I was so awkward and not very helpful, but—“

Nora felt a chill go up her spine. For some reason, her memories of that time were ridiculously vivid, and just now, as she’d been about to sleep—

“It wasn’t Behrad.” She thought of him as she’d first met him, silly, telling jokes to cheer her and singing enthusiastically along with Ray lyrics from Oklahoma in the middle of the coffeeshop, their arms around each others’ shoulders, the two of them so embarrassing, and she’d laughed like she hadn’t in so long, like she wouldn’t again for years—

\--except it had been different, a quiet intense woman who talked about her own asylum experience, and that’s why Nora had trusted them, a woman who’d rolled her eyes as she and Ray had been singing to Oklahoma—

“Zari,” Nora said.

Ray’s eyes went wide. “Yes. Z, she said her friends called her Z, but they were all gone—“

“What happened?” Nora asked, knowing exactly why Ray felt so lost now.

“I’m not sure. The timeline—something changed.” He looked at her with those kind brown eyes, imploringly, and again Nora saw evidence he’d been crying, and that was not something she could deal with. “I don’t want to forget, Nora. I don’t—she was too important.”

Nora nodded helplessly. She was out of her depth here—no magical solution to something like this.

“I miss her. But—Behrad—he’s one of my closest friends, I can’t imagine—I can’t imagine my life without either one. But, she—Z was in mourning, for Behrad, and her family, and she was so strong. And Behrad—he always speaks so proudly of his family, of his sister. I don’t want to lose either one.” Ray’s voice was pleading.

“I understand,” she lied. Well, emotionally she did, even if thinking about all this scrambled her brain. “Can you—keep both sets of memories?”

“I don’t think so,” he said, quietly, mournfully. “But it’s not just the memories I’m afraid of losing—I have two good friends, and one of them never existed as I remember them.” 

“I remember too, kind of,” Nora admitted. “It makes me dizzy.”

“Yeah, it does that,” Ray said absently, making Nora wonder briefly--he’d been through this mind fuck before?

There was such sadness in his voice and in the uncertain way he held himself, sitting there on the floor, and Nora hated it. He shouldn’t be sad, ever. “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted. “It’s just—it feels wrong to me too.” 

Ray looked grateful at that, and Nora was glad she’d helped a little. 

Then she heard running, and someone turned a corner: Behrad. He was out of breath and wild-eyed, and she felt immediate feelings of fondness for this genial fellow who’d been so outgoing and friendly to her. That coexisted right next to the regard she had for the compassionate woman who’d been so over Ray’s singing—and Ray was right, they needed both of them.

“I’m sorry, I mean I’m so glad someone else is awake,” Behrad was babbling. “I just had the weirdest dream.”

Ray and Nora helped each other up off the floor and Ray immediately went to Behrad, who accepted the supportive hand on his arm gratefully. Nora moved closer as well and saw in Ray’s eyes unguarded affection and worry at how rattled Behrad seemed to be.

Behrad looked trustingly at Ray--he was so very young, Nora thought. “I don’t know how to say this. I think—I think I’m supposed to be dead.”


End file.
